


(the dream i’m building is) the sky you fly through

by adevyish



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barely Mentioned Societal Homophobia, Eating Delicious Food, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No One Goes To Class, Romantic Comedy, Slightly Stalkerish behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2020-03-07 19:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18879748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adevyish/pseuds/adevyish
Summary: “I’m really flattered,” Zhangjing says. Due to those striking cheekbones it isn’t even a lie. “But, don’t you think a marriage proposal is a bit too fast?”“I’ve been told my beauty has changed minds in an instant,” Lin Yanjun says with a completely straight face.One day a stranger by the name of Lin Yanjun shows up at the café Zhangjing works at and sets out to woo him. Zhangjing falls in love with the food Yanjun brings along.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Taiwan is finally legalizing same-sex (but not quite equal) marriage week!
> 
> This is set in Taipei, so I’m as consistent with Mandarin romanization as Taipei street signs are. I’ll try to stick to one system for Hokkien though.
> 
> Title adapted from LaLa Hsu’s 〈明知故犯〉.

**二〇十六年  
十月**

It begins when a man Zhangjing doesn’t recognize shows up at the café.

Zhangjing has barely voiced the requisite “Welcome, please come in” before the man does a grand sweep and drops one knee on the floor. The man looks completely at ease even though his knee must be digging through the fashionable rips in his jeans into the scratchy wooden floor.

With the angle and the juncture of window daylight and wood-frame shadow, the man’s cheekbones look almost ethereal. Zhangjing thinks he can be excused for his delayed reaction when the man says, formally, “Will you marry me?”

First of all, _what_?

Second of all, _is that a ring!?_

The next thing Zhangjing knows is his coworker, one Chen Linong, unsubtly poking his arm. “Zhangjing-gege, I think he’s looking for you?”

“A beautiful and fitting name,” the man comments.

“Did you not even know my name,” Zhangjing says. Despair permeates his voice and his body.

Zhangjing has a creeping realization that all sixteen of the café’s customers must be staring by now. Stuttering along on autopilot, he asks, “Would you like to order anything?”

“You,” the man says with gravity.

Zhangjing puts his face in his hands.

“Please come back in four hours!” Linong cheerfully quips.

“Thank you”, the man says formally.

After the man leaves, Zhangjing manages to schedule Linong on cleaning duty for the rest of the week. Linong doesn’t even protest, since he’s unsubtly volunteered himself to do closing so he can spectate.

Four hours later, Zhangjing pointedly ignores Linong sweeping in the background as he sits at a cozy couple’s table. Across from him is the man, who has introduced himself as Lin Yanjun, looking far too suave for how awkward Zhangjing is feeling.

“We met last night,” Lin Yanjun says. “I tried to get your Line but you kept thinking I was asking you to dance. Fortunately your friends mentioned you worked here.”

As it happens, Zhangjing went partying last night with a group of friends that he is demoting to ex-friends as of right now. And as it happens, he ended up at karaoke with said ex-friends, extremely tipsy and belting Sun Yanzi’s greatest hits at 1 am to complete strangers.

“That’s when I knew you were the man I had to marry,” Lin Yanjun explains, hands earnestly clasped on top of the fake-vintage wood table.

Zhangjing makes an incoherent noise of protest. “We don’t know each other at all!”

“Love knows no boundaries!” Linong shouts from the coffee bar.

“Nongnong you’re a child!” Zhangjing fires back.

He turns back to Lin Yanjun. “I’m really flattered,” Zhangjing says. Due to those striking cheekbones it isn’t even a lie. “But, don’t you think a marriage proposal is a bit too fast?”

“I’ve been told my beauty has changed minds in an instant,” Lin Yanjun says with a completely straight face.

After today, Zhangjing thinks his face might as well be buried permanently in his hands.

*

Even though Zhangjing’s shifts are at different times of day every day, Lin Yanjun manages to drop by several times that week exactly when Zhangjing is working. Zhangjing suspects that Linong has gotten the café owner, who is his auntie of some sort, in on his outlandish plans.

Whenever Lin Yanjun visits, he always takes a table close to the bar and ostensibly sets up to study, but sometimes Zhangjing catches him leaning on an elbow and gazing intently in Zhangjing’s direction. Every now and then, Zhangjing stops by to ask if he needs anything and Lin Yanjun keeps replying with increasingly ridiculous compliments. Sometimes, Lin Yanjun adds a witty whisper about a fellow customer and Zhangjing laughs so hard he has to clutch the table.

The whole thing, from proposal to daily in-house admirer, has brought Zhangjing endless teasing among his coworkers. The one saving grace of this whole tragicomedy is that Zhangjing and Lin Yanjun’s universities are a whole half-hour away from each other by foot _or_ bus. The café is even further, and Lin Yanjun can’t ride bicycles at all.

“How is he from Tainan and unable to ride a bike,” Linong mutters when he learns this. “How is he supposed to woo you with a bike ride along Xindian River if he can’t ride a bike!”

Zhangjing rolls his eyes. “Don’t you have homework to do,” Zhangjing says, pointing at the stack of notebooks and textbooks in front of Linong.

“True love is more important,” Linong replies with faux solemnity.

“You’ve been watching too many dramas,” Zhangjing says. He tosses a clean rag in Linong’s direction.

Linong turns around and barely catches the rag against his chest. “I only watch _one_ drama a season,” he sputters. “You watch ten a season! In multiple languages!”

“I do not watch ten a season,” Zhangjing says, unable to refute the rest of that statement.

Linong drops the rag onto his lap. “This is the meet-cute you’ve been waiting your life for! Didn’t you say you wanted to meet someone and marry them for the spousal visa?”

Zhangjing mashes his forehead against a cupboard door. “First of all, that was a joke, and second of all, still waiting for the Taiwanese government to legislate anything.”

Linong tsks in annoyed agreement. “Idiot old people,” he says. “Well, I’m sure there are some lonely divorcées out there. I’ve heard lots of things about the Chuanmei Corporation family.”

Zhangjing turns against the cupboard door so he can glare at Linong. Seeing Linong’s mock wide-eyed consideration, he says, “I’ll take stalker with the cheekbones, thanks.”

Linong pumps his fist in victory. “See! I knew you’d agree with me.”

The next day, Friday, Lin Yanjun comes by holding a golden paper tote. The name printed on it is that of a pricey shop recently opened by an international award-winning pastry chef. Zhangjing has thought of going, but he doesn’t have the time to line up for an entire hour for fancy bread.

“Thank you,” Zhangjing says politely, “but I can’t possibly take this.”

“No thanks needed. A stunning voice like yours deserves every laudatory gift,” Lin Yanjun says. “Speaking of your beautiful voice: do you want to go to karaoke with me and some friends tonight?”

Zhangjing doesn’t remember Lin Yanjun’s friends or if Lin Yanjun thinks karaoke rooms are actually make-out spots. He eyes the pastries regretfully. “I’m busy,” he says.

“That’s fine,” Lin Yanjun replies immediately, but his face is so serious that Zhangjing can’t tell how really feels about it.

“You should still enjoy this,” Lin Yanjun adds, softly placing the bag of pastries on the counter. He leaves the café without ever taking a seat.

Zhangjing spends the rest of his shift wishing to hear one of the man’s silly one-liners. During his lunch break he hides in the back and eats two pastries, and he can’t contain himself because they’re just as amazing as everyone says.

*

It is early enough on Saturday morning that Zhangjing thinks he is hallucinating his regrets when he sees Lin Yanjun hovering and peeking in through the window.

Zhangjing isn’t sure if the man’s presence is a good or bad thing, but he unlocks the door anyway. “The café opens at 10.”

“I brought shaobing youtiao,” Lin Yanjun says.

At the mention of one of his favourite foods, Zhangjing instantly goes from bleary to bright. He practically yanks the small steaming plastic bag from the man’s hands and opens it up take a large crisp bite of hot and fresh youtiao right there on the doorstep of the café.

“Is it good?” Lin Yanjun asks. Zhangjing is too busy eating so he just nods emphatically. “I’m glad you like it,” Yanjun says. “I wasn’t sure if I ran from the market fast enough to keep these hot.”

“Hn nn nn” ( _It’s really good_ ), Zhangjing intones with enthusiasm while his cheeks are still stuffed with food.

Zhangjing scarfs down the shaobing youtiao in a record minute-and-a-half in between sips of plain doujiang. “Get the sweet one next time,” Zhangjing says, with a little shake of the doujiang cup.

“So I can keep doing this?” Yanjun says, and it’s the first time Zhangjing sees anything like hesitance in his eyes. Zhangjing can’t help but soften.

“Of course,” Zhangjing says, softly. Then he blinks as he realizes the gastronomic fortune that’s been bestowed upon him. “But you have to bring me the best food every time you come!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaobing youtiao and doujiang — savoury flaky flatbread filled with fried dough and often also green onion omelette; and soy milk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zhangjing and Yanjun eat their way through Taipei™

**十一月**

The school term picks up for them both, but Yanjun’s visits continue. Zhangjing absorbs Yanjun’s habits like osmosis; how he orders a coffee if he’s dropping by or a pot of tea if he’s staying. With Zhangjing’s explicit approval to visit now, Yanjun has stopped hiding behind his flimsy excuse of studying and started shamelessly proclaiming that he is there for Zhangjing whenever asked—to Linong, other staff, the owner, and one memorable time, to a girl who tried to ask him out.

(Zhangjing gave Yanjun a free scone for how hilarious that scene was. It wasn’t because Zhangjing had been the slightest bit jealous, of course not.)

In fact, without the excuse, Zhangjing doesn’t think he’s seen Yanjun with a notebook or textbook more than once.

“Don’t you need to study for midterms?” Zhangjing asks even as he’s peering into the paper bag of chelun bing Yanjun brought today. He fishes out one he thinks might be dousha-flavoured and passes it back to Yanjun.

“Beauty is effortless,” Yanjun replies airily, taking one out for himself.

Zhangjing tries to stifle his amusement into a large bite of chelun bing—it’s indeed dousha—and pretends to shake his head. It’s enough for Yanjun to break character and start laughing too.

*

On Saturdays, Yanjun comes by before the café opens. He always brings a plastic bag with one sweet doujiang for Zhangjing, one salty doujiang for himself, and shaobing yaotiao for both of them. In the quiet morning light of the café they exchange jokes and little anecdotes about their lives, until the sun starts shining in earnest and the late brunch rush starts.

Yanjun’s visits are so much better than lonely hours spent doing homework behind the coffee bar. But there’s always interruptions from customers (legitimate customers, not just girls trying to score a date with Yanjun) and, after Saturday morning classes let out, a certain annoying brat. So one Tuesday when he and Yanjun are chatting on opposite sides of the bar, Zhangjing nervously asks, “Do you want to go anywhere this weekend?”

He can _hear_ Linong yelling about them going on a date in the back.

Yanjun doesn’t even react to Linong, instead, leaning into the bar and into Zhangjing’s space. “Every date in my calendar is a date with you.”

Zhangjing collapses into Yanjun’s shoulder in laughter. “That was terrible!”

Yanjun loses his composure and starts laughing too. When they’ve both stopped setting each other off in fits of giggles, Yanjun says, “Have you been to Tainan?”

“No, I haven’t really been further than Taoyuan airport,” Zhangjing says.

“What, really,” Yanjun says, looking theatrically surprised. He smiles. “Now absolutely I have to show you around the entire island.”

“You don’t have—”

“Nope,” Yanjun says, “I absolutely have to.”

In between schoolwork and actual work, however, neither of them have the time to travel much further than Keelung. Yanjun does suggest going to Houtong to see the stray cats, but eventually his civic pride wins out and they decide on a Tainan restaurant chain with a store on Yongkang Street near Yanjun’s campus.

*

The Saturday of their date, Zhangjing tries to dress up nicely even though he has a whole morning shift to cover. Yanjun doesn’t bring breakfast, instead coming later and waiting for Zhangjing’s shift to end. From the café, they walk to the restaurant together, ambling along alleyways lazy and comfortable amongst the last throes of summer warmth. Along the way, the buildings ease from brick-tile dormitories to low-rise apartments with splashes of bright leaves and tiny flowers spilling from metal grates and over concrete balconies. They weave through scooters and bicycles and Yanjun tugs at his arm occasionally as a signal to dodge into parked cars to let a car pass by.

The restaurant is bustling, but the two of them manage to get a quiet corner table on the second floor. The place isn’t fancy or pretentious, but it has an eloquence with its modern take on traditional, homey decor; as soon as they settle in Zhangjing is admiring the ceramics decorated with bold calligraphy mounted on the wall.

“What do you want to order?” Yanjun asks, and suddenly, when Zhangjing turns back to him, he’s struck by how much Yanjun’s strong features fits amongst the striking art.

Zhangjing tries to crack a joke to recover. “I want everything but I can’t eat everything,” he says. He even tries for puppy eyes, which is terrible because he’s supposed to be a twenty-two-year-old adult, but it makes Yanjun’s eyes crinkle with delight.

“I’ll have to order all of my favourites then,” Yanjun says.

They end up with ten dishes between the two of them, but Zhangjing can’t complain in between eating the crispy zha doufu and slurping up the signature danzai mian. The latter is delicately small and Zhangjing is tempted to order more bowls to make up for it, but as soon he has two bites, he’s interrupted by Yanjun.

“Try this,” Yanjun says, carefully holding up a ball of fried oyster in front of Zhangjing. Zhangjing thoughtlessly moves forward and takes the whole thing into his mouth.

Only a split second later does Zhangjing realize how coupley the act was. He starts to lean back as embarrassment seeping into his cheeks. Yanjun starts looking like there might be uncertainty in his eyes, so Zhangjing makes himself still and lean back in.

Zhangjing closes his eyes as he lets the oyster dissolve in his mouth.

“Good?” Yanjun asks. His chopsticks have been replaced by his face, and his eyes are barely ten centimetres from Zhangjing’s.

“Yeah,” Zhangjing whispers.

Yanjun gives him a rogue-ish grin, and suddenly, they’re back to exchanging jokes while eating through dishes.

“So you’re in first year of university? I thought you were older,” Zhangjing says.

“I’m an 84er,” Yanjun says.

“84?” Zhangjing asks, even as he’s trying to do the conversion from Minguo to Gregorian in his head.

“Twenty-one,” Yanjun tells him. “I did my military service first.”

Most of Zhangjing’s friends here are fellow Chinese diaspora students from Southeast Asia, so he isn’t too clear on the details, but he asks, “I thought you only have to do a few weeks after senior high?”

Yanjun shrugs and looks down at his plate. “I didn’t really know what I wanted to do, so I thought I’d just get my service out of the way.” They’re both silent for a moment, as Yanjun fiddles with a slice of xiangchang on his plate and Zhangjing waits.

“I know it’s what I’m supposed to do,” Yanjun says, “but I didn’t want to waste my dad’s money on a degree I didn’t even want.”

“That’s a mature outlook,” Zhangjing says. “Your parents should appreciate that,” and he hates his words because it’s so rote.

Yanjun laughs, and it’s easy and settled. “I wouldn’t say so,” he says. “But they’re okay with it.”

“So did you end up studying in your dream program?” Zhangjing asks.

“I guess,” Yanjun says with a shrug, but he’s smiling and Zhangjing thinks Yanjun does look like he is living his dream. “What about you?” Yanjun asks. “Did you always want to study business?”

“Yeah, of course,” Zhangjing replies. It’s their first date, so he doesn’t say more.

Discussing majors turns into discussing worst class schedules and commutes. Zhangjing finds out that Yanjun lives for free within walking distance of his university because he is _house-sitting_ for a rich relative with an apartment that would otherwise be a mosquito emporium, when Zhangjing commutes all the way in from Yonghe.

“I feel betrayed,” Zhangjing says, clutching his heart.

Yanjun smirks. “You could always come over.” The accompanying wink is so ridiculously overdone and Zhangjing knows Yanjun doesn’t mean his innuendo seriously.

Zhangjing barely notices when Yanjun signals for the bill, but he does notice the waiter approaching with a mini-clipboard with said bill, and he manages to grab it as soon as it’s placed on the table a split second before Yanjun does.

“But I invited you out,” Yanjun says.

“It was my idea,” Zhangjing replies.

“But you’re a guest eating my hometown’s food,” Yanjun says.

Zhangjing gives him a look. “We’re in Taipei.”

“You’re in my stomping grounds,” Yanjun says, gesturing palm out to the entire restaurant as if he’s a Tang dynasty noble.

Yanjun wins, because honestly Zhangjing wasn’t trying very hard and he can always shower Yanjun with free food at the café.

They make their way downstairs and out of the restaurant, joining the flow of the weekend and tourist crowd. It’s not long before they come across a giant Rilakkuma in a storefront.

“What _is_ that,” Yanjun says.

“Wah," Zhangjing exclaims, grabbing on to Yanjun. “We _have_ to go in.” 

It isn’t until they’re in the shop that Zhangjing realizes he’s holding on to Yanjun’s hand, in a shop full of couples with girls acting cute and clingy with their boyfriends, that he realizes his mistake.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly as he tries to let go of Yanjun’s hand.

Yanjun, though, only tightens his grip in response, and casually leans in to point at a stuffed mascot. “Do you know the name of that thing?”

“Yes,” Zhangjing says, trying for just as casual even though he’s utterly aware of every one of Yanjun’s fingers he’s touching. “It’s a white blog with a tail.”

“I’m going to call it Foam,” Yanjun declares.

Zhangjing turns to Yanjun in bafflement. “Foam?”

“So I can find a brown one and call it Milk Tea,” Yanjun continues, sounding completely serious.

Zhangjing swats at Yanjun’s arm. “That’s not even funny,” he says through giggles.

Yanjun grins. “You’re laughing though.”

They end up leaving the store with the plush toy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain keeps trying to write all the dialogue in Mandarin and then I have to translate it back, cries.
> 
> Chelun bing, filled with dousha — palm-sized pastry with a thin waffle-like skin, filled with azuki paste. Other common fillings include custard or savoury preserved daikon stirfry. A.k.a. imagawayaki or wheel cake.
> 
> Zha doufu; danzai mian — fried tofu; a small bowl of oil noodles with minced pork and other things.
> 
> Xiangchang — plump, juicy, sweet-savoury sausage.
> 
> 84er — usually people in Taiwan give their ages by saying what Minguo year they were born in. This happens to neatly avoid the problem of Western versus traditional age reckoning.
> 
> Foam milk tea — alternate translation for “bubble milk tea”, because Mamegoma doesn’t really look like bubbles. San-X make a bubble tea character challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Hope everyone is having a good Dongzhi and eating delicious tangyuan.

**十二月**

They make it down to Tainan for winter break, after Zhangjing talks his parents into waiting until the Lunar New Year to see him and Yanjun out of paying for his high-speed rail ticket.

Yanjun insists on setting out early to avoid the crowd. Zhangjing is so worried about sleeping in he finds himself at Taipei Main Station a full thirty minutes before their agreed meeting time. He pulls out his phone and opens LINE, which is still showing his chat with Yanjun full of go-to-sleep sticker spam from 10 pm last night.

 _Where are you,_ Zhangjing texts Yanjun.

 _Buying breakfast!_ comes the reply, along with a sticker of a rushing rabbit.

Yanjun shows up from the direction of the restaurant area running precariously laden with plastic bags.

“I didn’t think you’d be so early,” Yanjun says. He leans over to catch his breath, and holds out one of the bags. “I bought some railway biandang so we can have the archetypal Taiwan Railway experience.”

“The high-speed rail isn’t Taiwan Railways,” Zhangjing says as he takes the proffered bag.

“Shh,” Yanjun replies.

The bag smells good and Zhangjing hasn’t had any breakfast. He peeks inside and sees two typical flat takeout boxes stacked on top of each other, each held together by a rubber band at opposite corners and decorated with forgettably cute illustrations.

Yanjun drags him away from examining the food and down to the HSR platform. At this time it’s full of seniors and a few young families, and they join one of the platform queues. Ten minutes or so later, they’re boarding the train and finding their seats.

Yanjun’s other plastic bag turns out to be a stash of drinks and pastries from FamilyMart. Yanjun lets Zhangjing have first pick of the biandang and drinks, but Zhangjing knows the fruit tea and the pork rice were for him anyway. Yanjun has an oolong tea and the chicken rice. Being the embarrassing man he is, Yanjun keeps trying to feed him bites of chicken and Zhangjing has to lightly kick him under the table several times before he gives up.

As soon as they finish breakfast, Yanjun is falling asleep on his shoulder, leaving Zhangjing to stare at the monotonous faded green of the passing countryside. He thinks they’re somewhere in Miaoli. He falls asleep by Taichung.

Nearly two hours later, he’s shaken awake by Yanjun. “What time is it?” he asks.

“We’re almost there,” Yanjun says softly. With a teasing lilt, he adds, “You look like a cherub sleeping.”

Outside Tainan is warmer than he expected, and Zhangjing ends up carrying his winter coat as they’re greeted by a middle-aged woman in purple jacket. “Hi gugu,” Yanjun says, giving her a hug.

“Hello Lin-ǎyí,” Zhangjing says, handing over a box of pricey oolong that the café owner had recommended.

“Oh I couldn’t possibly take this,” the aunt says.

“I insist,” Zhangjing says, pushing it directly on top of her hands. Somehow, while he’s doing this, Yanjun steals his luggage, so Zhangjing awkwardly has nothing on his hands while the three of them are walk through the enormous parking lot. It’s bigger than any lot in Taipei, and it takes a few minutes before they come to a stop at a green Mitsubishi sedan. 

It’s another twenty or so minutes chatting with Yanjun and his aunt on the car, driving past farmland, before they arrive at the house. Lin-ǎyí insists they should come in even as Yanjun says they’re only there to drop off their bags. Zhangjing agrees on staying at least a polite ten minutes before they set out for old Tainan.

The entrance hallway and living room are sleek and modern; Zhangjing spots bold floor-to-ceiling paintings and—

“Is that a three-storey climbing wall?”

“I went through a phase,” Yanjun says.

Zhangjing keeps looking around at the expensive yet tasteful décor. “Are you secretly Hua Zelei and no one told me?”

“Are you a righteous weed?” Yanjun shoots right back, and laughs at his own joke. “Honestly though, he was the only decent man in F4.”

“I’m glad _someone_ agrees with me. Why does anyone like Dao Mingsi!”

They end up ranking Meteor Garden by best to worst characters as they demolish the plate of fruit Lin-ǎyí’s set out, before saying their goodbyes. Yanjun grabs two helmets and a set of keys, which he uses to unlock the motor scooter in the courtyard.

Zhangjing takes in the scooter. Looks at Yanjun. “You can ride a scooter but not a bike!?”

“Look,” Yanjun says. “I had to learn how to ride a scooter because it was cool.”

Zhangjing stares at the cute baby blue scooter. “It really isn’t.”

“How dare you hurt my child’s feelings,” Yanjun says dramatically, but hands him a helmet with a grin.

Zhangjing has never been on a scooter before, and it turns out to feel a lot more death-defying than anything this cute ought to be. He clings on tightly and finds his face burying into Yanjun’s back at every low, swooping turn. He’s never going to tell Yanjun that this does make him a little cool.

Yanjun takes the scenic route, pointing out landmarks interspersed with funny anecdotes, and eventually Zhangjing works up the courage to peek out above Yanjun’s shoulder and look at the places Yanjun’s mentioning.

They arrive at the old town, and Yanjun parks his scooter before they set out. They take their time meandering through spacious alleyways and peeking into sanheyuan protected by small but flamboyant dragons. The architecture is traditional but lively and colourful like home, a contrast to the stoic monuments of Taipei. Yanjun spins tales about each doorway and ornament, and Zhangjing is almost certain he’s making up all of it on the spot.

They eventually make their way to the Confucius Temple. “First things first,” Yanjun says, and they join a throng of students praying for luck during finals. After they’re done that, Yanjun leads him through the purple-and-red hallways lining the courtyard before leaving through another gate.

“We’re going to the best tsua-bing place,” Yanjun says. He’s leaning in with a solemn expression like he is conveying a state secret of utmost import. “It’s so much better than Smoothie House. Taipei people don’t understand.”

“It’s December,” Zhangjing says, even though it’s as warm outside as in any department store. But as soon as they arrive, Zhangjing is beside the counter, eyeing all the fresh fruit and other various toppings and planning the ultimate combination.

“Why don’t we surprise each other,” Yanjun says.

Zhangjing lights up. “Okay,” he says, starting to plan something diabolical. “But you can’t look until they’re done.”

This is how Zhangjing ends up ordering an absurd combination that includes papaya and bell fruit. He grabs a table as he waits for Yanjun to ordering.

“I thought you’d like this,” Yanjun says with the soft hint of a smile. Zhangjing sees red bean and condensed milk atop shaved ice, and it instantly reminds him of the ABC he eats back home.

He breaks out in a grin. “I do.”

Then, telepathically, they both stare at Zhangjing’s creation at the same time. Zhangjing would almost feel bad at the shaved ice monstrosity he made for Yanjun, if he weren’t also partly cackling with glee.

“I actually love bell fruit, it’s my favourite,” Yanjun says, all seriousness as he scoops a heap of ice and fruit into his mouth.

“Do you,” Zhangjing says, becoming slowly and steadily more agog at the display Yanjun is putting on. “Actually.”

“Your _face_ ,” Yanjun says. “I like any fruit, really.” He tilts his head and smirks. “But now you have to promise me to eat whatever I give you next.”

Next happens to be the store’s other offering: tomato slices with soy ginger sauce.

“This is cruel and unusual revenge,” Zhangjing says, eyeing the display on top of the pink plastic plate in horror.

“It’s a local specialty,” Yanjun replies with the most earnest voice and expression.

Zhangjing narrows his eyes. “That’s only what you locals say to outsiders to trick them into being your clueless dupes.”

Yanjun, because he is probably a secret sadist, holds up a tomato slice duly dipped in sauce, and quirks an eyebrow at Zhangjing. Zhangjing sighs, and leans forward to take a bite.

It isn’t as terrible as Zhangjing expected. It’s actually surprisingly palatable, but Zhangjing keeps making faces as he eats more pieces just to see Yanjun laugh.

They walk around for a bit more amongst the old buildings, weaving in and out of shops old and new. Eventually, Yanjun points out a half-metre space between two buildings that they squeeze through, and Yanjun leads Zhangjing to a kitschy café of odds-and-ends books for dinner. They spend so long there, losing track of time, that the café ends up kicking them out.

They take the scooter back to Yanjun’s home, Zhangjing clinging again, the warmth radiating from Yanjun’s back offsetting the cool bite of the night air. They zoom past lights painting a scene across the twilight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My working title was “Taipei AU” and I go set entire chapters in Tainan.
> 
> Sanheyuan — traditional U-shaped housing complex with a courtyard, occupied by a single extended family.
> 
> ABC — short for air batu campur, or mixed ice.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the rebloggable Tumblr moodboard/post [here](https://adevyish.tumblr.com/post/185000438539/the-dream-im-building-is-the-sky-you-fly).


End file.
